New Song in time for Copenhagen

It's been a while, but I finally wrote and recorded a new song, called "Fiddle While We Burn"… just in time for the Climate Summit in Copenhagen. I dedicate this one to Stephen Harper.

      Click here
to listen, click "Read More" to see the lyrics.

 

Fiddle While We Burn

Copyright 2009 Dylan Bell, SOCAN/BMI

 

A little piece of “Apocalyptic Whimsy”: I seem to have this strange habit of dressing up dark lyrics in a bouncy, playful musical setting. This one started out with an article I read about the decline of the Roman Empire: the author, a geologist, theorized that the collective erratic behaviour that led to the collapse was caused by years of lead poisoning. Naturally this brought to mind the phrase “fiddle while Rome burns”: it wasn’t a great leap to see the comparisons today. I dedicate this one to Stephen Harper.

{mmp3}Fiddle While We Burn.mp3{/mmp3}  Click to Play

I read a story, a while ago
Told about the Fall of Rome
Crazy days…
Horses in the Senate, blood in the wine
Lady Rome in slow decline
Big Fat Nero in the centre of it all
Fiddling while Rome burned

The story said it was the lead:
Poison lead meant poisoned heads
(or so I read)
Lead in the plumbing, poisoning the wine
Sanity in slow decline
Lead went liquid in the centre of it all
Trickling while Rome burned

And they all joined hands, and fiddled while it burned
And they all joined hands, and fiddled while it burned

I read a story about the Plague
Seven hundred years ago:
Did you know?
Shout-outs to Heaven, wafers and the wine
Couldn’t slow the wrath this time
Black Armageddon, the ending of it all
Fiddling while Rome burned

And they all joined hands, and fiddled while it burned
And they all joined hands, and fiddled while it burned
‘Cause they’d come right back to the point of no return
So they all joined hands, and fiddled while they burned…

I read a story yesterday
Summer’s never going away
(or so they say)
Suntans in winter, icicles in June
Oceans rising to the moon
We all stand naked in the pressure-cooker sun
Thinking that we won’t get burned

So turn it up a few degrees
Bring a planet to its knees
Blame the fella in his monster SUV
Blame everybody else, but don’t blame me
I got my head buried firmly in the sand
Thinking that I won’t get burned.

And we all join hands, and fiddle while it burns
And we all join hands, and fiddle while it burns
‘Cause we’ve come right back to the point of no return
So let’s all join hands, and fiddle while we burn…


 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *